


Just Passing Through

by kelark59



Category: Common Law
Genre: But we'll assume for the sake of fanfiction that Travis isn't some kind of creeper, M/M, Never bring someone on a trip with you 20mins after meeting them in an all night diner, Road Trips, Wes isn't being very self-protective here
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-12-27
Updated: 2014-01-03
Packaged: 2018-01-06 09:08:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,548
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1105009
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kelark59/pseuds/kelark59
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>AU- Wesley Mitchell hasn't done anything truly exciting with his life, has he?  Eighteen years and all he has to show for it is a high school diploma and a beat up Chevrolet.  He decides that before he goes to college and does something productive with his life (because that's no fun) he's going to travel a little, see what he finds.  In Los Angeles, in a cheap diner at eleven o'clock at night, he finds something he didn't know he was looking for.  (Enter attractive blue eyed man who may or may not be gay and wants to follow Wes around on his episode of "It's too early for a midlife crisis but let's have a cheesy rom-com 48-continental road trip anyway!")  It'll get maudlin later but for now enjoy the fluffy crack (while it lasts mwahaha)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Los Angeles

**Author's Note:**

  * For [mizufallsfromkumo](https://archiveofourown.org/users/mizufallsfromkumo/gifts).



> Because without her, I wouldn't have written this (also she beta'd for me so THANKS MAN)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Los Angeles, California

Wes flopped down on the cheap motel bed and stared up at his ceiling.  He really ought to write to his sister, maybe send her a postcard, maybe even just call her, see how the new baby’s doing... _I’ll go to dinner and get a hold of her later, maybe in the next town.  I’ve only been gone a month, she’s probably not even that worried._  (Wes would later find out how _extremely_ wrong he was about his older sister’s concern for him, but he was eighteen and stupid and what fun would that be if he didn’t cause a few gray hairs on his way down?)

 

Wes ran a hand through his hair, strolled over to the door where he’d kicked off his soaking wet leather boots, and began to lace them up so he could go find a place to eat.

 

“Hi, can I help you?” the waitress, a pretty young woman with red hair and too much makeup, hooded her eyes at Wes, who smiled at her.

 

“Hello, I’m gay, I’d like a diet Pepsi,” he said, not skipping a beat between the three phrases.  She cleared her throat and nodded, not deigning to reply, just turning and walking off.  Wes bit his lip and looked down at the paper menu on the table in front of him and was startled as he heard a voice above him.

 

“Diet?  You know, there’s an ingredient in diet soda that turns into formaldehyde in your stomach.”  

 

Wes raised his brows at the man, a few years older than himself and a few inches taller, and retorted, “It just tastes better, do I know you?”  Of course he didn’t know him, he’d been in Los Angeles for an hour and spent most of that dropping off his things at the motel and then trying to find a decent restaurant open at eleven o’clock at night.  But it seemed like the least awkward thing to say.

 

The man grinned and slid into the seat across from him.  “Nah, but I bet you want to.  You aren’t from around here... Indiana, maybe.  Ohio, Wisconsin, Michigan, Illinois... am I getting close?” he asked, and Wes raised his eyebrows.  “Iowa.  You’re smart.”  This man was more intriguing than Wes had originally been willing to give him credit for.  How had he figured that out?

 

The man grinned and it was blinding, soaking up more of Wes’ attention than was _strictly_ necessary.  “My name’s Travis Marks, I’m a cop... well, I studied to be one, at any rate.  I work in my foster brother’s garage at the moment because _welcome to the job market_.  How old are you?  Seventeen, I think.”  Wes clicked his jaw back and forth as he listened to the man- Travis- talk, and thanked the waitress when she brought his diet Pepsi and cast a glance at Travis, who denied wanting anything.

 

“I turned eighteen four months ago, graduated two months ago, and I’ve been on an indefinite road trip for the last five weeks,” he listed off.  “You aren’t sharing my pizza just because you didn’t have the good sense to order anything,” he added when he saw Travis eyeing the food in the waitress’ hands when she came back over.

 

“Aw, come on, man,” Travis chuckled, and took a piece of it anyway, talking around his mouthful of food (which just made Wes cringe, because _Christ_ ).  He continued, “Well, I’ll be twenty two in three weeks, just graduated from the Los Angeles police academy.  I’ve lived here my whole life, bounced around in foster care, spent some time in jail that I’m not gonna dwell on now, and I like interesting rebels.  Looking for some company on your weird little adulthood-celebration road trip?” he inquired, stealing a drink of Wes’ Pepsi.   _At least he didn’t use your straw_ , the blond told himself, and quirked his mouth to the side at the proposal.

 

“Well, I wasn’t.  But it’d be cool to have someone I could switch off with so I can actually sleep once in awhile without having to stop for the night altogether.  And _that_ , Marks, is the only reason I’m going to say yes.  Next place I was thinking about stopping is just outside Flagstaff, Arizona.  If we get there and I decide you’re too annoying then I’m leaving without you and you can hitchhike home from Flagstaff, got it?”

 

Travis grinned.  “Flagstaff’s a little far away for a first stop, but alright, if you say so.  When we leaving?”  

 

Wes sighed.  “Tomorrow afternoon if I get bored.  What is there to do in this city?” he asked, and Travis got a gleam in his eyes that told Wes he’d regret the question.

  
That night when he stumbled into the motel at 2AM, he sat down and wrote a letter to his sister.


	2. Mount Timpanogos

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mount Timp, Utah

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so I have established that (barring any kind of a freaky accident or diversion) I will try to have a chapter up every Friday. Also I want to thank the crap out of my beta reader (again, the awesomely wonderfully beautifully magnificent mizufallsfromkumo) for editing this so quickly for me because I procrastinated and didn't get it done until TODAY, so. Um. Yes! Here is your chapter, ridiculous boys being ridiculous in a brand new state!

It really should to have occurred to Wes and Travis that, if they were going to go together on the road, they would never agree on anything.  They should have factored in how difficult that would make a trip.

 

“Where in Utah are we even going to go?” Wes huffed, and Travis hummed distractedly and adjusted the road map on the dashboard in front of him.

 

“Lagoon would be pretty cool... like the amusement park, y’know.  If we’re going to Salt Lake City I wanna hang out in Temple Square.”  Wes raised his brows.  Neither of those sounded appealing to him.  There would be too many people in too little space if they were to go to Salt Lake Temple, and Lagoon definitely would not be better.

 

“How about one of the national parks?  Arches, maybe, or Zion, they have really cool rocks there.”  Wes wasn’t _extremely_ fascinated by geology, but it would be immeasurably preferable to being jostled around by tourists for a few hours.  However, Travis had a similar reaction as Wes did to the first proposal.  By the time they’d finished arguing over where in Utah to go, they were already passing the sign welcoming them in.

 

“Mount Timpanogos sounds decent,” they’d finally agreed, and off they’d driven.

 

Mount Timp was, admittedly, better than Flagstaff had been.  Never let it be said that the two of them were men who were unwilling to admit their mistakes, and deciding to get dinner at a gas station had been a pretty big one.  At least no one on this stop had food poisoning.

 

The cavern, with its icicle stalactites and below freezing underground creek, was far too cold for Travis (who had never been out of southern California, which was why he’d jumped so easily onto this trip), but their hike on the mountain had been... enjoyable, to say the least.  Wes had rolled his eyes when Travis insisted they climb _every_ big rock they came across, and Travis had barely kept his mouth shut when Wes wanted to stop and investigate a spider that was sitting nestled in the leaves of a bush, but they’d both managed to spend a few hours without belittling each other too terribly.

 

When they got back to their hotel afterwards, they were both dusty, sweaty, and tired.

 

“Man, that was fun, we should do something like that again... how were you not freezing your balls off in that cave?” Travis asked, flopping down on his bed; Wes made a face at the cloud of dirt that expelled itself from his clothing at the action.

 

“Where I’m from the average temperature in the winter is 21 degrees.  That cave was about forty degrees.  I’m used to worse.”  Wes grinned and ran a hand through his hair, then pulled a face.  “I’m gonna go take a shower,” he added, and darted off to the bathroom before Travis could whine out anything about how he should get the first shower.

 

Wes contemplated, while he was in the shower, telling Travis about the time when he was twelve and they got four feet of snow and couldn’t go to school for a week.  He didn’t know why he wanted to tell Travis about that, he just wanted to tell Travis _everything_ , all the time, and god, wasn’t that horrible.  He was getting _attached_ to this guy, and it had only been two weeks.  Disgusting.

 

“-and GLH number nine is the most innovative GLH product yet, hair that sprays right onto your head!”  Travis’ jaw dropped and he flicked off the TV, rubbing his face.  Infomercials were so fucking weird.  Wes came out of the bathroom and noted the look of distraught horror on Travis’ face.

 

“What’s the matter with you?  Didn’t anyone ever tell you, your face will freeze that way?” he scoffed.  Travis rolled his eyes and threw a pillow at him, which Wes caught and sat back on the bed.  “Your turn, you smell like a donkey, go take a shower.”  Travis rolled his eyes again (he’d been doing a lot of that in the last couple weeks) and stood up.

 

“Don’t go watching weird early nineties infomercials while I’m in the bathroom,” he warned, and Wes raised his eyebrows.

 

“What the hell would compel me to do _that_ , Travis?” he demanded, because really, how much more ridiculous could you get?

  
Travis smirked.  “Dunno, man, just don’t do it.”  With that, he went to take his shower.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I would like to point out that GLH 9 (it stands for "Great Looking Hair") was a real product and a real infomercial that aired in the nineties. It's more ridiculous than it sounds, go watch it if you've got ten minutes and a good 'what the hell did I just watch' face.
> 
> http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=VvcM9g4k_YI


End file.
